The Eyes Have It
by La Caterina
Summary: Inserted episode in season 2.  Suspecting Marian's loyalties, the Sheriff tests her, sending her unwillingly off with Guy on a mission.  Meanwhile, Robin stands against the Sheriff, believing his love is in deadly danger.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note- Hello readers! Here's the inserted episode I've been starting. It takes place in season two after the "Lardner's Ring" episode and before "Walkabout." _

_Enjoy the Sheriff's plotting, Robin's heroics, and Guy's attempts to woo Marian. Just a regular day in Sherwood :) R&R!_

_###_

Marian looked out from her bedroom window with a sigh, leaning her chin on her hand as it rested on the windowsill. Shaking her head, she couldn't believe that only yesterday, she had agreed to marry Robin, chuckling when she picture his proposal alongside a grave. How just like him. Cocky. Arrogant. Completely inappropriate. But that was what always made her smile when she thought about him. Looking down to her left hand lying on the sill, Marian studied the intricate brass work around the brilliant emerald that shone on her middle finger. With a huff and a disbelieving smile, she shook her head, wondering just what unsuspecting noble gave this as an unwilling donation to Robin's cause. Not that it mattered. Not anymore. It was almost as green as his eyes, smiling cheekily back at her, she thought.

A rapid knock at the door startled Marian out of her thoughts with a groan. It had to be Guy, again. Since he "rescued" her from the tree yesterday, Guy had done nothing but sniff around her, pleading for some sort of thank you, some show of gratitude. In some form other than words as well. It wasn't that she was avoiding Guy; she just didn't want to put on an act for him, not while she was still so happy about Robin. Maybe if she simply ignored the knock, he would go away.

The rapping only repeated louder. Marian turned and walked towards the door with a stifled groan. "Please go away, Guy. I told you earlier; I'm not ready to receive visitors now," she spoke sweetly, feigning calm despite her agitation, her fists clenched tightly at her side. At the second of silence after, she took a deep breath.

"Oh come on now, Marian, a sheriff is no mere visitor," a sarcastic voice echoed through the wooden door.

Marian's eyes opened wide in a split second of panic as she stared at the door. "Just one second, my lord Sheriff," she replied automatically, grabbing her dressing robe from the bed and wrapping herself in it. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she walked over to the door and grabbed the large handle with both hands, only to see Robin's sparkling ring on her finger. Her eyes darted around the room for a hiding place, but nowhere seemed safe. Slipping it from her left hand, Marian simply glided it onto her right ring finger, hoping it would seem common enough.

The heavy door opened with a creak, and there just outside her room grinned the Sheriff's scraggly, conniving face, his jeweled tooth catching light from the corner of his crooked smile. "Well," he raised his eyebrow, "aren't you going to invite your Sheriff in?"

Marian forced her smile and stepped back, allowing the man to enter her room. The Sheriff clasped his hands behind his back and began to chuckle, gazing around the small chamber. "You know, after your father died, I really never expected to see you here again, Lady Marian. Funny how things work out, isn't it?"

Marian closed the door and stood with her back towards its thick timbers, "What do you want, Sheriff? I'm sure you're far to busy to simply pay welcome visits."

"You always were perceptive. I just thought I'd drop in for a chat. Sir Guy tells me you've returned after he most daringly rescued you from the clutches of that fiendish outlaw, Robin Hood." The Sheriff's voice teased with sarcasm as he paced towards her open window. "He says you've seen the error to your ways and come home, as it were. You see, Marian, some are easily won over by your protestations of loyalty and honeyed words, but I," he turned to face her, "I believe that actions speak louder than words."

Relaxing her face, Marian braced herself. Having expected such an inquisition from the very moment she returned, Marian met the Sheriff's dark look, "I don't know what you're implying, my lord."

The Sheriff shrugged his shoulders and widened his grin. "Allow me to rephrase myself then. Let's take a hypothetical scenario, shall we? You disappear after your father's death for weeks, allegedly at a convent far away, and you leave the very day Robin Hood manages to steal my precious Pact of Nottingham." He began pacing before her, his smile twisting higher with each phrase. "Now you've returned in a most dramatic manner: a hostage rescued from the notorious Robin Hood." The Sheriff stopped in his tracks suddenly, spinning to stare at Marian straight in the eyes. "Your stories and excuses may win over certain handsome, leather-wearing, devoutly loyal imbeciles. Certain men may easily turn a blind eye to your strange disappearances and the myriad of rumors that surround you about your ex, Robin Hood," he raised a finger towards her unmoved face, "But I am not so easily convinced."

Marian breathed out heavily, "Then what would you have me do, Sheriff? What I say is true."

"You want what you say to be thought true, Lady Marian. However," he lowered his accusatory finger and tilted his balding head, "I will give you the chance to prove yourself to me. Just run a small errand. It should only take one, maybe two, weeks. And your favorite handsome imbecile will be accompanying you."

Marian closed her eyes, trying to hide the emotion building up within her. "I would have to know exactly what I am agreeing to, my lord."

"_Tut tut tut,_ Marian. You are agreeing to not being imprisoned in the dungeons on suspicion of treason. You are agreeing to serve your Sheriff as your duty demands. And you are agreeing to assuage my fears and doubts about you and your pretty face." His dark eyes glinted up at her impassive face, "But you needn't worry. I will not compromise your honor or your morals. You will simply leave town for a few days on my behalf. Is that simple enough?"

Marian opened her eyes and nodded, afraid to open her mouth and let all her true thoughts out.

"Good," the Sheriff clapped his hands together as he grinned again. "You may even enjoy yourself. I know Gisborne will," he added with a chuckle as he waved for the door to be opened. Marian willingly obliged, aching to tell Robin this news, to see his smiling green eyes in the forest shadows.

The Sheriff paused on her threshold and spun around, "Oh, and if I were you, I wouldn't go leaving the castle any time soon. You wouldn't want to appear to be taking any sort of message to our mutual outlaw friend, now would you?" He smirked up at her innocent face, "Just remember, I'll be keeping my eyes on you. Gisborne will be around later with the details of your journey." Smiling wider, the Sheriff backed out of her doorway, pointing to his gleaming eyes—a subtle reminder as she closed the door.

Alone, Marian walked back to look out of her window once more, immediately and vehemently switching Robin's ring to its proper finger, looking longingly at the treetops in the distance. She knew exactly what she risked if she didn't maintain her cover, if she didn't follow the Sheriff's order now that he had backed her into a corner. She could lose Robin forever, and that would be as good as any execution. Twisting the ring tighter on her finger, Marian took a deep breath, convinced she could handle this on her own. She could protect herself, but Robin still had to know that she would be safe. Even though she'd be as good as a prisoner, perhaps even work against the Sheriff while under duress. She had to tell Robin somehow, wishing she had more details for him. For her sake and for his.

If she couldn't leave the castle, someone would have to. Someone who owed both her and Robin a great debt. Someone who had no inhibitions when it came to playing both sides.

She had to find Allan.


	2. Chapter 2

So far, so good, thought Vaisey as he paced through his castle halls. Women always defend what they value most when under pressure, and Marian was no exception. Above all, her sense of morals and dignity would always win her over. Beneath that plaintive smile, Vaisey knew lay a calculating brain, plotting her next move. Whatever that may be. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head, whether it was how to subvert his power, distract his lieutenant or questionably sneak that pain-in-the-side outlaw she still obviously fancied into his castle.

As of yet, her ploys and distractions and bleeding-heart outbursts were harmless. But this time it was different. This time, much more was at stake, and he had to fix it himself. For once, he'd remove any chance for his distracted lieutenant to flub up and ruin his best plans. And finally, he thought, Gisborne's annoying infatuation would be to his advantage.

Gisborne had to be around here somewhere, he thought as he peered into every shadow and out onto every ledge and balcony. "Off skulking somewhere inconvenient, no doubt," Vaisey huffed out loud as he turned another corner.

From the new hall, Gisborne's deep, bellowing voice admonished his unseen men. His tall figure strode into view down the corridor, obvious frustration etched on his gaunt face. The Sheriff paused where he stood, pressed into the corner of the hall, simply waiting for Gisborne to notice him. But Guy's eyes remained trained on the ground before him, his mind clearly dwelling elsewhere as he marched down the hall. The closer he came, the more the Sheriff realized Guy was muttering to himself, catching Marian's name and Robin's name every other sentence. So wrapped in his own thoughts, Guy threatened to simply stalk on by.

Vaisey rolled his eyes, "You never seem to notice me anymore, Gisborne."

Guy jumped in surprise and automatically grasped his hilt with a snarl. Reeling around, his grey eyes widened as he stared down at the Sheriff's apparently amused smirk. "My lord Sheriff. I did not see you there."

"Obviously," Vaisey sniggered as he spun around and proceeded back down the hallway he had only just recently traveled. "I have a mission I'd like to discuss with you, if you think you can pay me attention just long enough to hear it."

Guy fell into step behind the short, old man; "I'm sorry, Sheriff. It's just after what happened with Lardner's Ring, and the bird…"

"And the tree, and the hostage, and the woman you've been lovesick about for over a year. Yes all that. Perfectly understandable why you'd be so entirely and incompetently distracted, Gisborne," the Sheriff's voice biting at each one of his words. Vaisey smiled to himself at Gisborne's silent response, leading on into the Council Chamber—the headquarters for the Black Knights.

Securing the thick doors behind him, Guy immediately turned around and straightened himself to his full height, knowing the chamber's heavy importance and the grave matters discussed therein. "Now, my lord, my new mission?"

Ignoring the question, Vaisey soundlessly remained with his back to Gisborne, sustaining the deafening silence for effect. His dark eyes flashed around the circular room filled with torches and chairs, and then he leaned himself over the large map of England on the table in the center. "Gisborne, do you know what town lies here in this magnanimous country of ours?"

Guy's footfalls behind him echoed through the room as he peered down over the Sheriff's shoulder at the map, the Sheriff's gnarled finger lying over the Southeast corner. "Canterbury, my lord?"

"Yes, Canterbury. And with that fair city, you simply cannot forget the illustrious Saint Thomas Beckett—Archbishop… saint... martyr… political activist…" The Sheriff trailed off, his words obviously insincere as if rattling off a lesson.

"What has any of this got to do with the Black Knights and my mission?" Guy asked, irritation nipping at his deep voice as he folded his thick arms over his chest.

Vaisey finally spun around, a bemused smile across his face, "Who said anything about the Black Knights? Oh no, my dear Gisborne, this is more of a… domestic sort of mission, let's say. Now, as you mostly likely know, the Archbishop of Canterbury has always held a most important political role, and the current bishop is no exception, particularly since he has just be enthroned. As you mostly likely do not know, Archbishop Hubert Walter has decided to celebrate his new power with a feast in honor of Canterbury's favorite martyr, the beloved Beckett. In two weeks time, the bishop has declared that all noble families who give their son or daughter to the church in a pledge of vocation will be awarded 1000 pounds."

Gisborne's eyes widened at the sum.

"Shame you haven't a child, Gisborne," the Sheriff sneered as he watched a pained grimace cross Guy's face, "No matter. I've thought of a way around it. In disguise you will go to Canterbury for the feast with your accomplice, offer her as your noble daughter, pledging vocation to the Church, you snag the 1000 pounds and the two of you run back here to Nottingham with my cash as fast as your horses' legs can carry you. Brilliant, isn't it?"

Guy cocked his eyebrow, "Quite, Sheriff, only just one question. Who is to be my daughter in disguise? She'd have to be quite young, wouldn't she?"

"I hardly think so. In fact, I think Maid Marian would serve wonderfully for this purpose."

Guy's face first flickered around a smile, and then immediately fell into a hard grimace once more. "Marian? She could not disguise herself as my daughter; she's far too… too… womanly."

The Sheriff jokingly clapped Guy on the shoulder, "Come, come now, Gisborne. You must be, what, at least ten, maybe fifteen years older. At least you look it; you could easily pass as her young… well, youngish father." Vaisey looked up at Guy's steeled face, an expression clearly not amused. "But just think, Gisborne, I'm really doing us both a favor. You take your minx on a two-week, all expense paid vacation to the lovely city of Canterbury, and I make 1000 pounds for the crown," he wrapped his arm around Guy's shoulders, "What do you say, hmm?"

A smirk slowly crossed Guy's face as he realized the extent of the plan. He really only had to appear as her father once they reached the city, but before and after then… "What do I always say, Sheriff?"

Vaisey smirked, "Is that a, 'yes, my lord Sheriff?'"

"Yes, my lord Sheriff," Guy's smirk broadened as he stepped away from the Sheriff.

"Good, you'll inform the marvelous, mighty, misleading maiden yourself, Gisborne," Vaisey instructed as he dismissed Gisborne from the chamber with a mere wave of his hand. Alone once more, he sat himself in a throne-like chair, shadows flickering from the torches as he chuckled to himself. Little did Gisborne know just how important his holiday to Canterbury was for the Black Knights, or, as a matter of fact, how important it was for their perpetual war against Robin Hood. Gisborne—the handsome imbecile. He allowed himself to lean back in his chair and close his eyes for but a moment, whispering to himself, "If you want something right, you've got to do it yourself.


	3. Chapter 3

"Look, I'm not tryin' to be funny here, but if I ever… ever see Robin's face again, he'll kill me. He told me so hisself."

Marian stared Allan down where he stood in her bedchamber, beside her bed strewn with dresses she was packing, "Allan, you owe me. You owe me your very life, many, many times over. And Robin needs to know I'll be safe; he needs to know that the Sheriff is using me for some plot, but that I'll take care of myself."

Running his fingers through his hair, Allan shrugged, "I don' know Marian. I can't keep risking myself for your own missions. It ain't safe for either of us."

"I am well aware of it, Allan. Here," Marian gave him a half-smile as reassurance, slipping the emerald ring from her left hand, "Give this to Robin, and he'll know I sent you. He _needs_ to know if the Sheriff is up to something, and that I won't be here in the castle to help him."

Allan sighed and took the ring. From her left hand, he noticed with a single chuckle. "Fine, but if I die, it's on your conscience," he teased.

"Same to you, Allan," Marian teased back as she grasped his hand now holding the only object she valued in her life. "Don't lose it," she squeezed his hand once more before her own dropped limp to her side.

"I won't, Marian. Don't you worry none," Allan smiled as he slipped the ring into his coat pocket. "Anything else you want me to say to Robin?"

Marian stared down at the ground, trying to hide her eyes as they began to pool with her unshed tears. Why was loving Robin never easy, she wondered. Taking a deep breath, she searched her mind, filled with all the words she'd like to say to Robin, looking for just the right message for him now. "Tell him…. Tell him…"

A fervent rapping at the door echoed through the room as Allan turned wide-eyed towards Marian.

"Marian, I'd like a word with you," Guy's distinct, deep voice came from the other side of the door.

"Jesus," Allan whispered in panic as he searched around for a hiding place, Guy repeating his knock more impatiently this time.

Marian's heart raced as she thought and thought of how to get out of this one. Grabbing Allan's elbow she quickly instructed him, "Calm down. Just say the Sheriff sent you to check in on me and my packing."

"But… "

"Just do it, say it, Allan, or it'll be both our necks swinging from the gallows," Marian went to her door, trying every trick she knew to compose herself. Her hand trembled as she lifted the bar of her door, letting in the man she least wanted to see. At this moment.

Somehow, she managed to open the door partway, and her heart leapt unbidden seeing Guy's face so close to her own. He smirked, "Marian, is everything alright?"

"Of course it is, Guy," she replied, forcing her smile.

"Then why don't you let me in?" an undercurrent of irritation beneath his seemingly harmless question.

Marian laughed weakly, "Oh, of course. But you see, I wasn't exactly alone…."

Guy's hand forced the door wide open at these words, his eyes smoldering now in anger.

"You see, Guy," Marian calmly continued, "Allan was here, checking on me by the Sheriff's orders. In case I needed help packing and such."

Allan kept his gaze locked on Marian and nodded, "Yeah," he added, turning around and gesturing to the pile of garments on Marian's bed behind him. "Dresses can get heavy, you know Guy."

"Get out," Guy growled as he gestured with his head to the door. "I'll take it over from here, Allan."

"Right, well then," Allan walked quickly past Guy to the open door.

"And close it behind you," Guy barked to his man without even looking over his shoulder.

The door shut with a definite thud, and suddenly Marian felt almost suffocated. By her unbarred prison, by her separation from Robin, by the remnants of Guy's anger.

Guy focused his gaze towards her window for a moment, then with half a smile, he looked at Marian. "Sorry," he began, "I just… thought I should speak to you alone… thought you would be alone."

"I see, so that is your excuse for treating everyone around like the outlaws you devote your life to capturing," Marian bit back, unable to keep her own temper from flaring in response.

"Marian…" Guy shook his head, taken aback by her first words to him. "The Sheriff…"

"Well?" Marian continued, trying to lighten the tone of her voice as she turned her attention to the dresses on her bed once more; "What does the Sheriff wish that you tell me, Guy?"

Guy shifted his weight as he watched every one of Marian's movements, "Do you need help packing?"

"No, I need to know what you were sent to tell me. I can pack myself, thank you."

Letting out a deep breath, Guy drew himself up to his full height. How could she be angry with him already, he grudgingly wondered. If she wanted to treat him like he was her captor, he could play the same game. At least until she warmed to him more.

"Fine then," he gruffly replied. "We leave tonight before sunset. Be sure to make yourself look presentable. I don't want my traveling companion to appear as nothing more than a common peasant the entire way to Canterbury."

Marian froze and turned to face Guy, "Canterbury?"

Guy smirked, "Yes, we travel to Canterbury disguised as family."

Marian raised her chin in defiance; the Sheriff certainly had a twisted sense of humor. "Family?" she questioned.

"Very… close family," Guy answered with a teasing smirk. Marian cocked her head, unsatisfied with his answer. "Father and daughter," Guy reluctantly answered with a sniff.

Marian turned back to her packing, allowing her inward smile to come out for a brief moment. "That is very close indeed, Guy," she smiled.

"It need only be for appearances… though we know the truth… the two of us," Guy walked behind Marian as she sorted her clothing on her bed.

Sensing the motion, Marian sprang up straight and turned around. Guy stood only a few inches from her. Her breath caught in her throat. "If that is all I need to know, then I would like to finish my packing… alone." She stared right into his grey eyes, as if by looking straight at him, she'd stop him from coming closer.

He dropped his gaze to the floor between them. "I'll leave you to it, then," he took a single step backwards. "But Marian," he spoke softer, "I... am… glad that we'll be together."

"Even if it is while working for the Sheriff... under duress… with no choice for me in the matter?" Marian cocked her head in defiance as she so often did.

Guy remained silent, a sort of distant sadness in his eyes.

"I guess there are some things we'll never quite see eye to eye on," Marian turned back to her work. She heard Guy retreating back to her door.

He paused just after opening the door. "We could certainly try." And the door shut with a definite thud.


	4. Chapter 4

Making his way to the stables, Allan constantly looked over his shoulder, almost certain Guy would follow him, his wind already up by him simply being in Marian's chamber. That was the last thing he needed right now, now that he was playing errand boy again. A pang of guilt stabbed Allan through the heart, but only for a moment. He felt in his pocket at the protruding ring there; errand boy was the least he could do to cover up his guilt. Checking over his shoulder one more time, Allan pushed at the stable door.

"Leaving so soon?" a cold voice came from the shadow beside the door.

"Jeez, Sheriff. I didn't see you there," Allan panted, startled by the Sheriff's lurking.

The Sheriff chuckled once, clasping his hands behind his back, "You're not the only one. Now, what interest have you in the stables at this hour?"

Allan's breathing stopped, "Guy… sent me, just to make sure the coast was clear." He lied.

A sidelong glance sent Allan's heart racing in panic. The Sheriff smirked, "Has you working for his every little whim, does he?"

"You have no idea… though not as much as some…" Allan mumbled.

"Then it wouldn't be to much to ask my own favor of you," the Sheriff put his arm around Allan. "Think you would be able to find your way back through Sherwood to deliver a sort of… message… to your old employer?"

"Robin?" Allan asked, shocked entirely at this request. "You want me to take something to Robin Hood?"

The Sheriff nodded, looking surreptitiously into Allan's baffled face. "Precisely. Think you could find your way back to him one more time, just for me?"

Allan couldn't believe this turn; him too? "I guess I could certainly try."

"Oh, excellent," the Sheriff clapped his hands together, then reached into his coat pocket, drawing out a small wooden, rectangular box. "I have a little… gift for Hood, if you don't mind dropping it off for me. I believe he'll really appreciate its value… really open his eyes to the reality of his situation." He placed the small box in Allan's outstretched hand, "I want you to deliver it and wait for his… reply… to the message inside. Now I know I'm not your domineering taskmaster," his eyes glinted, "but you don't mind running this teensy errand for me, do you?"

"Yessir… I mean, no, Sir. Not a problem," Allan stuffed the box in the pocket of his jerkin. "That is, if I can find him."

"I have complete faith in you, boy," the Sheriff mocked placing his hand squarely on Allan's back and shoving him away from the stables. "Now, get going. I need you to leave soon, and don't worry about seeing Gisborne off. I'll take care of it myself," he added with a suppressed snicker. "They leave within the hour, and I want you on your way just before them, is that understood?"

Allan nodded, sliding away from the Sheriff's smirking face. Why him, why did he always get stuck doing what everyone else wanted of him? And why leave now, before Guy and Marian? Perturbed and anxious, Allan turned his back to the Sheriff, carrying a message from Robin's greatest love and another from his greatest enemy.

"I just couldn't do this without you," Vaisey called after Allan as he began retreating away from the shadowed corner down the corridor. "You're quite possibly the most crucial pawn in my much larger game," he muttered.

Vaisey's victory was nearly in sight.

###

Allan fumbled his way through the thick, emerald bracken as he left the Nottingham Road. Shadows lined almost every inch of the forest floor, and somewhere, hiding in any one of them could be Robin. He gulped in nervousness, heading off towards where he last knew their camp to be, knowing the chances of finding it once more were stacked against him. And the chances of finding it safely were even slimmer.

Pushing away the foliage from his frowning face, he quickly put his hand into his pocket, finding Marian's ring, reassuring him he just might survive this errand. Clutching the ring in the palm of his hand, he made his way along a distinctly worn forest path, lined thicker and thicker with Sherwood's mossy trees. Allan thought he heard a twig snap somewhere in the dark green shadows, freezing immediately as his heart raced in panic, wanting to hide somewhere but knowing he must be found.

Allan jolted at the creaking of heavy timber. He tried to jump out of the way, remembering Will's many cleverly concealed traps, but it was too late. A giant log came swinging across the path, battering Allan in the arm with such force, he felt himself lift off the ground. Blinded by agony, Allan crumpled to the forest floor where he fell. His hand opened at impact, and before he could stop it, he watched in horror as Marian's ring arched up through the air, falling somewhere under the thick, molding layer of leaves around him.


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: Enter Robin Hood, with a slight vengeance. You don't mess with his fiancee and get away with it. _

_Thanks for all the reviews! I love to hear what you all think!_

_

* * *

_

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Gisborne's right-hand serf come for a trip down memory lane. Missed us that much, did you Allan?"

Allan tried to roll himself over to face Robin's distinctive voice, but cried out in excruciating pain. His arm felt almost on fire, each nerve pulsing and throbbing, and any attempt to move it the slightest bit sent convulsions along his entire body. "Jesus, Robin. You've dislocated my shoulder with your damn traps. I can't even breathe, it hurts," he groaned in pain, writhing in the leaves, making a slight effort to find the ring—his hope for mercy.

"Then I guess they've done their job," Robin chided as he walked closer. "Now tell us, what does your master want? Or should we just let you worm your way back home?"

"Robin," Djaq said in a clear, calm, lilting voice, "showing some pity is not beneath you." She walked from behind a nearby tree towards Allan's form, her dark eyes stern but kind as she examined his oddly cocked shoulder. "Lie on your stomach, Allan. I can fix this easily." He complied willingly, feeling Djaq's small but firm hands move his arm against his side. His mind began remembering old times, memories that seemed sadly distant yet warm now. But the next thing he knew, pain ripped through him again as his shoulder popped back into place.

Gasping and moaning in agony, Allan sat himself up from the ground, gingerly moving his arm around. "Thanks," he muttered, "Always knew you still cared about me, Djaq."

"Hmm," she chuckled once, "Don't make me regret being nice."

"Enough," Robin said forcefully, eyeing his gang around him, "We have little enough reason to be nice to you, Allan. You know that, and yet you come back; why?"

His eyes opened wide, Allan searched through the debris around him, looking for what he lost, "Ummm… well… you see Marian sent me."

Much squinted down at Allan in confusion, "What… what are you doing?"

"She gave me this ring to prove to you I'm not lyin'" he continued to pick at the rotting foliage around him.

Robin's face became surprised, "Her ring?" He froze for a moment, his mind racing at what this meant. A ring, which ring? "What ring?" he asked Allan aloud, stepping closer.

"Shiny brass with a large emerald in it. Look, I promised not to lose it, she said she'd kill me if I lost it, and I said you'd kill me if I didn't have proof she was the one to send me…" his voice became edgier and edgier as he combed through the leaves on his hands and knees.

"You are lying, Allan. Marian would never give you that ring. It's… it's…." Allan heard Robin unsheathe his sword.

"Too important to her, I know. I know what it is, Robin. I ain't stupid, saw it on her left hand," he paused before searching through a particularly rotten clump of leaves. Reaching in, his breath caught in excitement. "This ring, Robin. I may be a traitor, but I ain't a liar. At least not when the truth saves me skin," he picked off the black mud and held the ring up for Robin, the emerald glittering in the dim sunbeams that reached so far through the thick trees.

Robin snatched the precious ring from Allan's filthy palm. It was true. This was his ring; his ring for her. He gritted his teeth tightly together, "What are you playing at here?"

"Nothing! I swears! Marian wanted me to bring you a message," Allan defended himself as he staggered to his feet. "Since she returned to the castle, the Sheriff suspects her and forced her to work for him. He's using Marian for some newly hatched plot of his. Don't bother asking me what it is, I don't know either, and the Sheriff didn't tell Marian neither. He wanted her to just go out of town for a few days," Allan stood straight, still cradling his recently injured arm.

"God, Marian," he muttered to himself, looking frustratedly into the treetops for a split moment. Then his eyes burned back at Allan before him, "Has she left yet? Where is she going? "

"Don't know, she didn't know where she was leaving. And yeah; she and Guy took off a few hours ago." Allan choked as Robin's face flushed immediately at Gisborne's name. "They headed South, towards London, but Robin, Marian wanted me to tell you she'll be fine, not to come after her and find out just what the Sheriff is up too. She thinks this is some sort of blind to distract you from what the real concocted plan is."

"Like hell, I'll leave her under Gisborne's attention. I'm sure he'll be very attentive to her every need," Robin sneered. He spun around to survey his gang where they all stood around him.

"Master," Much added from just to Robin's right hand, "She will be alright, she's very safe, well, usually."

Will Scarlet's eyes flashed a warning: "Marian's right, Robin. We can't go chasing her down if she's the decoy."

Robin heaved a heavy sigh, squeezing the ring tightly in his hand, "You're right. There are some battles she must fight on her own. Though I hate it." He stepped back and sheathed his sword, taking a deep, purging breath. "Now all we have to do is find out what the Sheriff is really up to," he said quietly, removing his tags from around his neck, sliding Marian's ring onto the thin leather strap and replacing it, feeling the brass ring pressing slightly against his chest. Just above his heart. "Much, I want you to go with Will and stand as lookouts at the castle's gate, reporting on all the comings and goings. John and I…"

"Uh, Robin," Allan interjected, walking cautiously closer to his old friends, "I think I have something that will help you with that. You see," he reached into his pocket and drew out the wooden box, "the Sheriff also wanted a message delivered."

Robin grew instantly rigid at Allan's words, "Now what are you saying?"

"Well," Allan's nerves lit up again, "you see… the Sheriff cornered me just before I was leaving with Marian's message, and he gave me this," he proffered the box, "and he wants me to deliver your reply," his voice trembled with worry.

Snatching away the box, Robin cautiously withdrew the small pin from the lid, opening it up little by little. Suddenly, he slammed the box shut, his fingers turning white from clutching it tighter and tighter. "Allan. Do not lie to me. What has the Sheriff done to Marian?" his voice was cold and hard, each syllable like iron.

"I told you," Allan shook his head confusedly, "She's gone off with Gisborne by the Sheriff's orders."

"Then how do you explain this?" Robin shoved the box into Allan's chest, then drew out his sword. "Don't let him budge an inch," he yelled at the gang, who moved in closer, casting confused looks around at each other.

Allan quickly opened the box. Inside, a single pale green eyeball looked up at him. He shivered squeamishly at the gruesome gift. Inscribed on the lid were the words, "Come see me," in bright red. Disgusted and shocked, Allan closed up the box in an instant. "I… I still don't understand," he managed to say despite his squeamish queasiness.

"Tell me, Allan, if you are such an ally for Marian, what color are her eyes?" Robin drew out an arrow from his quiver, setting it taught on his bowstring.

"A sort of pale blue, green…." Allan looked at the box still sitting in his hand, his mind pausing in epiphany, "Oh."


	6. Chapter 6

"Hugh and Adeline of Leicester?" the innkeeper looked up from the yellowed, tattered ledger on the counter before him, the dimly lit inn echoed with clanking dishes, the drone of voices and the whiny strains of music drifting from the next room. He ran his calloused fingers through his greasy, graying hair and picked up his quill, "One night or two?" he asked his latest patron.

The man leaned his arm on the countertop between them, his long dark hair drawn away from his face by a red velvet cap, "Just the one," he replied, laying a two shilling piece down and pushing it towards the innkeeper slowly. "But tell me, what are the sleeping accommodations like, my good sir?"

The keeper's shifty eyes glanced down at the large silver piece between them, "Well," he began by clearing his throat, "if you so desire, my lord, I can offer ye straw mattresses, or for a bit more, feather ones," he passed the coin between his anxious fingers.

The red-capped man threw a quick look over his shoulder to the woman far off behind him, and the innkeeper raised his eyebrow at the glint in them as his customer turned to face him once more. "How much for a single featherbed?" the stranger asked.

"Again, the feathered ones be extra," and the customer pulled out another, smaller silver coin. The keeper picked it up, jingling it with its mate in the palm of his hand with a curling smile across his chapped lips, "I can make that happen for you and your companion, Sir Hugh."

"I would be forever grateful," Hugh replied, straightening himself up once more and readjusting the large purse at his waist. At that moment, his companion approached the two men, her pale green eyes staring intensely at the keeper behind the counter, then flashed over to her companion. The keeper couldn't help but smile slyly; she was a real beauty.

"If all your business is concluded here, then I would like something to eat… Father," she sharply addressed the dark man beside her.

"Wait… Father?" the innkeeper questioned, shooting the man across from his an almost disgusted look. "She's your…"

"Uhh… daughter," the man finished for him slowly shaking his head. He sighed and fished out another small silver coin from his purse, "Make it two featherbeds, if you please."

###

A colorful and equally loud display of people overflowed the tavern room from floor to rafter. Barmaids carried pitchers—overflowing and splashing with ale—to the many tables, forcing their ways through the crowd and the bustle. Guy led Marian through the sea of people to a vacant table in the corner, grabbing her hand tightly, feeling her fingers pressing against his own palm. The skin on skin of her hand in his; the sweaty, leering faces of anxious and hungry men; and the drunken cries of pleasure permeating the tavern's atmosphere stimulated Guy's senses. This was like home, this was his familiar territory of late.

Guy sat down on one side of the rickety wooden table, sliding the bench closer in and gesturing for Marian to do likewise opposite him. Marian, for her part, gathered her dark traveling cloak around her tighter and determinedly sat down, angling against the wall beside her, facing away from Guy. He couldn't help but chuckle at her obvious discomfort, "Relax, Marian," he shook his head, "and you just might enjoy yourself tonight."

With a flourish and a giggle, a decidedly busty barmaid set down two foaming flagons of ale. She threw a hearty smile at Guy, arching her back and adjusting her corset over her ample cleavage as she returned his flashing gaze. Watching the maid go, Marian huffed and withdrew even further way from Guy. "Enjoy myself as you are?" she chided, crossing her arms tightly over her own chest.

Guy raised his eyebrow and returned his attention to the flagon in front of him, "There is much here you could enjoy, Marian," he took a deep drink, "me for instance."

"Oh, which should I enjoy more: you peering down women's corsets, running your eyes over every curve… or you as my fake father when I miss my real father, the man who raised me and truly loved me?" her words bit hard and fast as tears began to cloud her eyes at the mention of her late father.

Guy's face softened in an instant, "Marian, what about just enjoying me for me," he extended his gloved hand across the tabletop, and her eyes staring quickly at the movement, "as friends."

Marian took a deep breath, fighting so hard to let go of the resentment and anger that still clung to her heart when it came to her father. She couldn't blame Guy for her father's death, no matter how hard she sometimes tried; nor could she blame him for their pretense and disguise. Smiling slightly Marian decided to make the best of her situation, pushing the handle of his ale flask into his outstretched hand and grabbing her own. "To friendship…" she raised her cup.

Clanking the pewter together, Guy smirked in return, "To you and me."


	7. Chapter 7

Guy stared at Marian across from him, silently pushing the last bits of rabbit stew around her plate. Her delicate eyebrows seemed to be permanently furrowed since they began their meal; she seemed concerned, preoccupied, nervous even. Nervousness severely spoils intimacy. And this would not do. This was his one chance to show her who he really could be, to no longer be Sir Guy of Gisborne to her, but simply Guy. And after this assignment, Guy knew this chance would never come again.

"Is it not to your taste, Marian?" he asked, straining to be heard above constant deafening din, as he finished the last dregs of his ale.

Marian looked up suddenly, pulled out of her thoughts back to her reality. She smiled sweetly, "No, it was fine." Guy cocked his brow to question her. "Really," she reassured him with an even wider smile.

Guy sniffed and straightened his back, "Clearly it wasn't. Let me get you something else, something better than this dribble." He reached his arm up to wave a maid over to them.

"No, really. You don't need to do this, Guy. Don't call her over," Marian reached her hand up and tried to pull his arm from the air.

"You need better. You… deserve… better," Guy returned, looking right into Marian's troubled eyes.

Marian's head shook slightly at his words at his sincerity. She found he said this sort of thing only too often. "I am… perfectly capable of doing this all… for myself," her emotion tinting her voice.

"I'm just getting you better food, Marian. That's all," Guy replied, shaking his head a bit in confusion at her reaction. And suddenly the concern from Marian's face fell away, turning her head ever so slightly to look up at him.

"Yes, what can I do for you, sir?" the same barmaid strutted over, readjusting her cleavage one more time while casting an alluring glance towards Guy.

Guy leaned back against the wall, laying his arm across the table and shoving the empty flagons towards her, "More ale, first. But more importantly, this," he shoved the plate of half-finished rabbit stew across the entire length of the table, "this is unpalatable, and not worth the spit. I want the best."

"Well," the maid began as she picked up the plate and the flagons with both hands, "If a virile man like you enjoys a hearty dose of… meat," she shimmied her shoulders ever so slightly, "then I have a personal recommendation for you, my lord."

"And what, pray tell, is it?" Marian asked, her chin jutted proudly up at the maid.

"Venison pie," the woman replied with a quick raise of her brow.

Marian nodded, "Good, I will have that then, miss. That is all," she dismissed her quickly with a wave of her hand.

The barmaid dipped her a shallow curtsey, a smirk across her face as she turned her attention back to Guy, "I think you'll find it pleasing my lord. It's very warm… and moist… and dripping with flavor."

Marian cleared her throat and cocked her head even higher at the maid. Then her eyes traveled down to the table, glancing over Guy's arm resting in front of her. Without much thought, she grabbed his bare hand where it rested. Guy's gaze quickly flashed to hers in disbelief, and with his free hand, he waved the barmaid away as well.

"Grateful?" Guy asked, his deep voice low with mischief, his breath heavy from the ale he had finished.

"Grateful she's gone," Marian replied, her hand retreating back to her own lap once again. "I do not like these women. It's as though… they're almost too free. It's uncomfortable how unrestricted they are. No sense of morals or self restrictions whatsoever."

Guy chuckled, inching his hand out towards her once more, his palm beckoning to be held again, "Sometimes, you're made of contradictions, Marian," he commented, the ale already obviously taking its effect as he started to slur ever so slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he continued, "Here you are, resentfully bitter of your own restrictions, of your own captivity, and yet you are… uncomfortable at their freedom. Isn't that what you've proclaimed to want all these years?"

Marian grew rigid in her place, her eyes glowing brighter in the dim tavern light, "And yet here you are, Sir Guy. You seek only power at all costs, and yet you subject yourself to one man, bowing to his every command and submitting yourself unquestionably to his power. Then are you not also a contradiction?"

"I have my reasons," Guy half-growled.

"As do I," Marian replied, her voice and gaze straight.

Guy sniffed and looked down. "Well, then, aren't we quite the pair?" he looked up from the corner of his eyes, a smirk toying over his mouth.

Marian laughed once, still examining Guy's face as he lifted his head. His gaze glinted at her in the dim light, "You know, I love the way your eyes change color. One moment, they're as blue as the most heavenly patch of sky, and the next they become like a bird's egg, soft, intricate and… beautiful." He leaned closer in over the table, holding himself up by his elbows, his head rolling more drunkenly to one side. Then he lifted his hand from the rough table top, making its way closer to her cheek, tinted and shadowed by the flickering candlelight. "They say the eyes are the window to the soul," he smirked as his finger traced her check.

"Is that so, Guy?" Marian laughed, gently batting his hand away from her face.

"It is, Marian. And knowing this is true," he chuckled, framing his distinctive chin with his palm, "then what do you see in my eyes?"

Marian huffed and rolled her eyes, looking down at her hands in her lap. Nevertheless, she felt her heart beginning to race as she felt his gaze focus even harder on her. Pewter clanked down on the table as the innkeeper set down two brimming flagons of ale. Guy immediately took one and continued to drink until it was empty, wiping the froth from his chin. "You know…" he began, each word heavier with intoxication, "most women admire me for my eyes… and it's also common knowledge just how impressive my thighs are."

"Guy…" Marian cautioned, picking up the empty flagon, looking at him with concern, especially as he then proceeded to reach for the other dripping mug, taking another hearty swig.

"Shh, Marian," he began as he clattered the mug down too hard on the table. "Listen to this…" he cleared his throat, "My eyes, and thighs are my best qualities," fudging his rhyming to fit his drunken poem. "My eyes and my thighs are the best of all guys'," he drawled out the final s. "What do you think?"

Marian shook her head at him, a humored smile on her face, "I think you've had a bit too much, Guy."

"No, really Marian, what do you think?" Guy stood from the bench and braced himself against the edge of the table, leaning down to draw closer and closer to her face. "What do you think of me?"

"You are not yourself right now, Guy," Marian's temper began to rise as she leaned away from his face and his ale-tinted breath.

Guy placed his foot on the bench and leaned even closer to her, running his hand along the length of his own thigh, "But don't you agree just how toned, how striking my thighs are? Here, feel just how strong they are," he tried to reach for her hand from her side.

"No, stop it," she commanded unflinching at Guy's almost leering face. His face contorted with confusion as he straightened and set his foot back on the floor. "Guy. I know you well enough to understand that you are not yourself. We can talk about this later when you are your old self, the self I know to be my friend."

Guy let out an aggravated huff, and Marian noticed his fist clench at his side for a moment.

"I want you know me this way, away from Nottingham and the outlaws and the Sheriff. This is me, this," he gestured to his face, "this is myself too. And what if what I want isn't friendship," his eyes narrowed, "what if what I want is more than that."

"Guy," Marian began softly, "let's not discuss this now. It's not… fitting discussion."

With a sniff, Guy drew himself rigid, "Is it because I work for the Sheriff? Is it because you're still frightened after Edward's death? Answer me!" Marian said nothing, but only met his gaze with one growing equally furious. Guy ground his teeth, "Is it Robin?" he growled.

Marian huffed in her short-temper, "No." Her heart panged at Robin's name, and suddenly her left hand felt empty. "Let it be, Guy," she fumed, looking up at him suddenly.

"You've let me be for too long, Marian. And I've been waiting for you to finally see me as something else. But I guess this is merely something else we will not see eye to eye on, isn't it?" Guy's gruff voice hardened in his drunken fury.

"You need to sleep, Guy. Come along," Marian grabbed his hand from his side, and Guy immediately grasped it tight.

He tried to pull her into his arms, "Ah, so you finally want to lead me to the bedroom?" he chuckled as he pressed a kiss into her hair.

Marian pressed her hands against him, holding him at bay. "Guy, no. I said no, and I mean it. What is it with you?" she asked as he finally released her.

Guy held himself up against the table, his head hanging down on his broad shoulders. "You've asked me so many times for your freedom, Marian. And you could take your chance now… with me. You could learn a few things from the tavern wenches and their freedom."

"That is not freedom. It is indecent, it is shameful," her voice rose in passion.

With a shrug and a smirk, Guy sat himself back down on the bench, straddling the thick board between his legs, "Suit yourself." And then he raised his hand once again, summoning the barmaid to him once again.

Carrying a steaming pastry to the table, the barmaid set the plate down before Guy, "My lord certainly has quite the… appetite," she murmured as she placed her hands on her wide hips with a flick of her bright blonde hair.

Guy pushed the plate to Marian's spot, gesturing for her to sit and eat, a growing cold smirk crossing his face. Marian's face seemed to overflow with emotion, staring at what was going on as she sat down in her place. She began cutting into the thick crust of the pie, her eyes focused hard on Guy as he turned to the wench once again. "I am exceedingly hungry still. What's your name, girl?" he asked, placing his arm on the tabletop.

"Essy, my lord," she curtsied slowly, bending over so that her breasts dipped right in front of Guy's steely grey eyes. Immediately Guy's hand flew from the table to grab hers from her coarse brown skirt, pulling her roughly down in front of him on the bench.

"Well, Essy, your employer wouldn't mind if you kept me company for a while, now would he?" he chuckled as his eyes scanned over her rounded corset top once again.

"Does it matter, my lord?" Essy replied coquettishly, sliding herself closer along the wood and moving her leg to the other side to straddle the bench and face him.

Guy chuckled and put his hand to her back, pulling her even closer, but not before he cast a quick look over his shoulder. Marian sat stock still, her eyes riveted on the action, a glow behind their fiery pale blue—jealousy, Guy hoped—and her pie remained untouched and steaming.

Essy placed her hand on either side of Guy's rough face, turning his head to face her and pressing her lips to his, pressing her breasts against his broad chest. Guy felt her working her mouth along his, and he responded with more of the same, breaking for a second to finish his mug of ale to the dregs. At that moment, he caught Marian standing up from the corner of his eye. She huffed in disgust and began to walk away from the table.

"Your… friend there… seems rather cold," Essy teased as she wrapped one of her legs around Guy's waist, "but you can feel for yourself just how warm I am," she whispered in his ear.

Guy's eyes remained on Marian's receding figure as she pushed her way through the tavern's crowd. This wasn't what he wanted; this wasn't what he planned. "That's enough," he gruffly ordered, pushing her leg back to the ground and standing up.

Essy looked up at him, curious and confused, "Surely my lord wanted more than just that? Or is this about your friend?" she nodded off to the direction that Marian had just left.

Guy reached into his purse and pulled out a silver coin, flicking it down on the table as he walked away, following the trail Marian had just forged through the masses. He finally caught her as she began to climb the stairs to the rooms, grabbing her hand as she moved.

She spun around, her face tight with anger, "Let go of me," she ordered, shaking his iron grip from her hand.

"I'm sorry, Marian. I just… I just wanted to make you jealous," he apologized softly, stepping on to the stairs to meet her eye to eye. Marian huffed and rolled her eyes in answer. "You were right," Guy spoke again, "I am not myself. I'm sorry."

With one more huff, Marian allowed herself to smile again, "You need sleep, like I said before." And she began to climb the stairs again.

She felt him catch her hand again, and she turned towards him once more, a teasing smile lay curled across his face. "Did it work?" he mischievously asked, barely stammering out his words.

Marian huffed in small amusement. He just would not ever give up. "Jealousy is in the eye of the beholder, Guy. Mostly I found the pie simply revolting and so I left," she retorted with a chuckle. Guy smiled, but then, his face grew a pale sort of green, and he ran through the crowd to the door. Marian barely had time to follow after him, standing just inside the inn's entry. From outside, she heard retching, and she huffed as she looked up to the ceiling in frustration. If she had felt jealousy even in the slightest, she certainly wasn't jealous anymore.

###

_Author's note: Hope you enjoy the closest thing I can ever right to Marian/ Guy. Unfortunately, it may be a while before I can update this story again. I have papers and a new novel brewing (yes, that is right :D ) But do not worry, Robin and his gang will reappear up to their antics in Sherwood soon enough. Thanks! _


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note:_

_Been awhile, hasn't it? Here's another chapter, now that I have more time to write for fun and NOT just for school. Back to Allan's plight... if you remember, he's in the thick of things with Robin and the gang. :) Please R&R!_

_

* * *

_

Blood pounded in his ears, and the right side of his head felt like it was about to split open in pain. Allan dared to open his eyes, the forest light blinding him, making his head throb even more. Looking quickly around, he struggled against the ropes that bound him around a tree, tightly cutting into his waist, pinning his arms uncomfortably to his side. Robin's blow to the head must have knocked him out cold for hours, and judging by the splitting ache in his shoulder still, they must have done a rough job of tethering him up like this. Wherever this was.

A few moments later, shouting echoed from close in front of him, and Robin strode into view, followed closely by the rest of his gang. Little John lumbered quickly behind him, spinning him around with his large hand over Robin's shoulder. "No, Robin," John's voice was thick with anger, "We cannot go to Nottingham. Not now, but wait like Will said."

Robin Hood batted John's grip away, "I will not just let the Sheriff molest her and take her apart piece by piece!" he screamed at the top of his voice, "This is what I have feared the most! This is what'd frighten me awake in the middle of the night every time she'd stay in the castle! And serves me right for thinking Vaisey would never go this far to get to me!"

Will Scarlet walked slowly up to Robin, "You need a cool head, Robin, to sort this out. Vaisey would know that to harm Marian would be a death wish, even if he did suspect how you are connected. But he's still a sheriff bound by law, he has no legal right to capture and torture a noblewoman. What if this is just the plot Marian warned us about through Allan?"

"Do not mention that traitor's name to me," Robin gritted his teeth.

"If you just let the traitor add his two cents in, Robin…" Allan finally got up the nerve enough to jump in the conversation.

Robin turned his head away from Allan's form bound to the tree, clearing his throat as he stared in the opposite direction, "John, if you wouldn't mind knocking the prisoner over the head with something hard…"

"No wait, I mean it," Allan spoke quickly as John took two steps closer to him, his large staff gripped tightly in his hand; "Let me have a word in me defense," Robin finally turned to look at him. "Please," he added.

Robin nodded, walking forward and placing an arrow to the bow held at the ready in his other hand, "If you'd like, only you should know, I never trust a traitor twice."

"I swears, Robin, it can't be Marian's, I just saw her not an hour before the Sheriff handed me that box."

"Oh, and an hour isn't enough time to chain someone up and gouge out their eye?" Robin's smile grew cold as the arrow drew tight on the drawstring, "I think not."

Allan breathed deeply, trying to remain calm in this tight spot, "Look, you'll only know if it's true in two ways. One, you storm into Nottingham's dungeon to only find yourselves caught in the process since it's just what the Sheriff is expecting. Or two, you trust me just a tiny bit and send me back to Nottingham to arrange a meeting between you and the Sheriff to negotiate." He looked Robin straight in the eyes, "It's the only way to save Marian," he steadied his voice as the look in Robin's face darkened, "… if she's even captured."

Robin's arrow tightened even more on the bow, his green eyes steeled over. "Robin," Will stepped in between Robin's arrow and Allan's frightened face, "I don't like Allan any more than you do, but I think he's right. We need him to speak with the Sheriff. We can at least trust him to carry a message back, Robin."

The taught bow lowered to his side, but Robin's eyes narrowed in anger, "How do we know that he won't betray us again and turn it into an ambush. I'm sure arranging the capture of Robin Hood and his gang would fuel your new political career even more, Allan."

"I swear Robin," Allan craned forward against the ropes, "I swear on me brother's soul, and me father's… and me mother's. I swear that I will help you if Marian is in trouble. I owe her me life many times over, and acting for you is the least I can do to return the debt."

Robin looked away, fighting back the anger, resentment and tears that had continually nagged at his eyes. He turned to find Much, whose kind face could read every emotion and thought that passed through Robin. "What do you think, Much? You know Marian as well as I do," he laughed once weakly, "probably better."

Much smiled, "I think what you think, Master. You know that." He drew his dagger and walked over beside Allan, cutting away the ropes that tied him, "But I think, you think we need to trust Allan. At least just this time. Again." The ropes fell away, and Allan flexed his arms and shook out his strained muscles.

Clapping Much on the shoulder, Robin smiled weakly to his friend. But his attention turned next to Allan, who had started smiling and laughing too much for Robin's patience. "Allan," he spoke coolly, "we will trust you to deliver our reply, but if you should double cross us… again, it will be the last thing you ever do, on Marian's behalf or not. Do you understand?"

Allan nodded, the mirth melting from his face, "Yes, Robin."

"Good," Robin turned to face everyone, shoving Allan into the center of their gathering. "Now, Allan, we want you to tell the Sheriff, we will see him, but on our terms. If he wants to parlay with us, he is to come with only you to the chapel in Klun at noon tomorrow. No guards, or the deal's off. Clearly, there is something he wants from us in exchange, and we mean to find out just what the Sheriff intends."

"Fair enough," Allan nodded, his face drawn into a slight smile, "I'll be off now, I guess."

"Wait a moment, Robin," Will interjected from across the group, "There is one thing I just realized. You cannot give away the fact that you know Marian is supposed to be away with Gisborne. That betrays the fact that Allan has worked on Marian's behalf between you and her, both now and before. And we can't call the Sheriff's bluff until we know if it's true or not."

Allan looked dumbstruck, "Gee, I'm glad you thought'a that."

"To save your own skin, if nothing else, right Allan?" Robin smiled coldly again.

"Yeah," Allan nodded his head slowly, "Well, I'll see you all in Klun then," he smiled bitterly, "It's been a real pleasure."


	9. Chapter 9

"_Marian…. Marian…" a voice, warm and concerned, called out in her dreams. Marian ran after it; she was always running in her dreams, through light, in darkness, down castle corridors, along shaded forest paths. Sometimes she followed clues, trails of blood, discarded leather clothing, baskets of food for the hungry, but right now, she knew she just had to follow that small tweeting, singing bird. _

_It darted in and out of the shadows: one second through the dim corners of Nottingham's dungeon, the next, she saw it flapping its small but relentless wings through Sherwood. Her breath fought hard in throat, her lungs burning with the effort and her delicate hand wiped the sweat trickling down her face. _

_She lost it, and panicking, Marian spun around and around searching for any sign of the bird. There. It gave a little song of pride for itself as it hopped about, dancing on the covers of her bed in Nottingham Castle. Marian laughed softly, "Of course you would stop here for a visit," and she slowly approached her bed so as not to frighten off the bird, its brown wings flapping nervously the closer she got. And its red breast puffed high in pride. Sitting, she extended a single finger, trying just to stroke that brilliant red plumage, just once. _

_Clank… clank… clank… something heavy and metallic pounded against her door… like the hilt of a sword… knocking to be let in. The little bird shied away, its soft tweeting growing into defensive screeches, angered to be thus threatened. Marian leapt to her feet from the bed, just as the door fell away. A dark, tall figure stood just inside the frame, his sword drawn and grasped tightly in his gloved hand. _

_Marian stopped breathing, only taking a few shallow gasps to stay alive. He would not enter, so she allowed herself two steps in his direction, trying to hide the bird, trying to find a plausible explanation for its little presence. "Marian," the dark figure's deep voice scolded from a distance, raspy, throaty, but still familiar. _

_She opened her mouth to reply, turning once to look behind her at her friend on the bed, "It's not what you think…" she heard herself say to the dark figure, who in response strode quickly past her, his metal spurs and heavy leather boots scraping against the wood of her floor. _

_Marian jumped between him and her bed, frightened for the sweet little bird, knowing just what would happen to him. He was too fragile, too precious; she had to help protect the bird. "Please, Guy," she pleaded, her hands outstretched against the figure, the leather of his jacket cold in her hands. She could feel his laughter beneath her touch, rumbling in his chest. _

"_In your bed, no less," he chided her, his laughter reverberating in her ears as she pushed against him harder. _

"_Now, Gisborne, you know it's one place you'll never be," a voice called from behind her back, the warm, familiar voice from before. An arrow sang just past her ear, its breath stirring the hair at the nape of her neck as it passed._

_Marian shut her eyes. Why was this how every dream ended?_

A chuckle echoed from above her, and something warm brushed over her cheek, a finger, perhaps.

"Marian," the deep voice called, louder and closer this time, "Get dressed properly. It's time to pay our respects to the Archbishop of Canterbury." And heavy footsteps thudded across the floor away from her to the door, the jingling of metal spurs ringing with each footfall.

Canterbury, she remembered as she looked out the small window; she was in Canterbury already. Marian dared to open her eyes, slowly gazing around the inn room, bathed in morning light. And through the window, the soft melodies of birdsong drifted through the slightly chilling air.

Traveling from Nottingham, to London, to Canterbury, a different bed in each city did nothing for her beauty sleep. Then again, neither her own bed.


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note: And back to Nottingham for the long awaited exchange. _

_Please leave a review, let me know what you think. Haven't written an ending yet, so we'll all have to see how it ends :)_

_

* * *

_

Twelve rings of the bell in the nearby town sent a slight shiver down Allan's spine, feeling cold all over despite the warmth of the noon sun.

The Sheriff laughed at Allan's involuntary shudder, "What's the matter? Pining for your missing master?" Allan shook his head, walking away from the short, balding man and into direct sunlight. He could still hear the echoes of bells from the Klun chapel just a short distance away. Alone for the moment, he closed his eyes, fighting the worry inside him. If this parlay goes foul, whose side would he be on? Fight Robin or fight for Robin: either way, he'd have to define his loyalties, and burning bridges was Allan's least favorite thing to do. He'd have to do everything in his own power not to let it come to that. And with this decision made, he nodded his head to himself.

"I must hand it to Hood," a chilling voice came from behind Allan's back, "Thinking to arrange a parlay with me in broad daylight… in a church… shows a good amount of planning on his part." Allan spun around, facing the Sheriff's cold, and twisted smile, "Fortunately, for our side, I have no interest in staging his capture… not yet anyway." The Sheriff gave a rather frightening chuckle, "By the by, did you enjoy your reunion with your old gang, boy? Warm enough welcome for you?"

"By warm ye mean a dislocated shoulder and rope burns, then yea, very warm, sir," Allan kept his gaze on the chapel, watching for any sign that Robin would be there. "Shouldn't we get goin', Sheriff?" he asked, changing the subject, "The bells already rang noon."

"Don't you worry. We're merely fashionably late," the Sheriff teased with a flick of his wrist. "Klun chapel, noon, with no guards but your sweet self. I believe we appear to meet each of Hood's demands," and with that, he began the walk into Klun, Allan following just a pace behind.

The whole town seemed empty, and not just that everyone-was-busy-working empty, in Allan's opinion. Empty as if everyone had been ordered away: eerie, spooky, deserted empty. In the distance, he thought he heard the bray of a horse, and Allan grew instantly wary… _we appear to meet each of Hood's demands_… an ambush? His hand reached for his forehead, softly slapping himself as he realized the truth. Burning bridges may just be unavoidable at this point.

###

"How good of you to join us, Vaisey?" Robin sat on the sanctuary steps, his bow and quiver resting across his lap. Allan looked around the chapel as they entered, watching as the rest of the gang stepped out all around them, Will firmly shutting the thick doors behind him.

"My pleasure, as always, Hood," the Sheriff dipped an elaborate bow, and as he bent over, a thin but long wooden box fell to the ground from inside his long black coat, clattering to the stone floor. "Whoops," he chuckled as he straightened, kicking it down the aisle, towards where Robin sat at the other end.

Robin stood up slowly, cocking his head to eye the box before his feet, his bow and quiver slung over his shoulder, "I warned you what would happen if you ever harmed anyone to get to me, Sheriff."

The Sheriff laughed, "One of my fondest memories of our first days together," he pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye. But Robin did not laugh. The Sheriff took a few steps, closing the distance between him and his opponent, "In truth, I am not reneging on any promise to you. But the stakes are much higher this time. Much more than any tax money or any poor outlaw's life is at stake. And you haven't even so much as picked up my present to you," he mockingly pouted.

Allan looked around, his former friends drawn closer in a circle all around the church's perimeter and the exchange; his look caught Djaq's eye, and he smiled. Djaq shook her head in disbelief, but Allan caught the traces of her own toying grin. He motioned for her to come closer with a silent nod of his head. She looked around her quickly before making her way over to him. Her dark eyes looked up at him in suspicion.

"Miss me?" Allan whispered almost inaudibly.

"Like usual, no," she replied, turning to look forward once more.

Before she could return to her place, Allan gently snagged her sleeve beside him, "Did you clear out the town before coming here?"

She turned to look at him once more, her wide eyes betraying her surprise, "Why?"

"Because it's empty. Not a soul," he answered, keeping his eyes forward so as not to draw attention.

"An ambush?" she asked, also looking ahead of her again.

"Not that I know of. But we know the Sheriff well enough not to put it passed him."

He could hear a soft, tickling chuckle, "_We_ know the Sheriff. Not in the same way as you anymore, Allan." And with that, she walked a short distance away, keeping her focus on the action in the aisle.

Allan snorted in irritation; he had tried to warn them, and still nothing changes. That's the virtue of honesty for you, he snorted again.

The slow, sinister rolling of laughter drew his attention back to Robin and the Sheriff again, the disgusted look on Robin's face as he opened the next small box even pained Allan's heart.

"What is this?" Robin sneered. The Sheriff's laughter quieted just a bit as Robin reached in, pulling out a length of chestnut hair—long, silky, and with a gentle wave to its strands. "What is this?" Robin shouted again at the top of his voice, throwing the hair and the box together on the ground.

"I believe," the Sheriff cocked his head in defiance, "that is a box that any wig maker would covet." His eyes narrowed, half in command, half in an effort to savor the fuming but silent wrath on Hood's face. "Are you ready to listen to my… request now?"

Robin closed his eyes for a second, drawing in a deep breath before returning the Sheriff's stare, "What do you want? And don't think it'll be enough to stop me, for I will never stop undermining your abuses or helping those that need it most…"

"In the name of all that is good and wonderful, for King and country, yes Hood, I know," the Sheriff interrupted, his mocking smirk drawn across his face. "My demand is much smaller. Just a simple piece of parchment, you must have seen it lying around your camp. About this big," he held up his hands, "with just a few signatures and seals around the bottom. Rather ordinary-looking document of treason I should imagine."

Robin smiled, "The Pact of Nottingham. I see."

"Glad you see," the Sheriff clasped his hands behind his back, leering even wider, "Because, as you know from your previous… gift, someone else will most likely never see again."


	11. Chapter 11

The sound of scraping metal echoed in the stone church as Robin drew out his sword, his breathing heavy enough for Allan to hear it at the other end of the aisle. "Jesus," he muttered as he rushed forward, his hand clutched tightly on his own hilt, but refusing to draw it instinctually. "Whoa, Robin," he shouted, "Not in a church." He heard running footsteps behind him, the gang rushing forward to surround the commotion as well. Allan found himself back to back with the Sheriff, staring into the suspicious faces of Will and Djaq, their friends completing the circle.

John placed a heavy hand on Robin's shoulder, grunting disapproval. "He's right, Robin," Djaq encouraged, her R's rolling softly, but her stare hard and cold at Allan's eyes.

"We can't just let him get away," Robin spoke through gritted teeth, "We have him here. Unguarded and alone!"

The Sheriff tutted, "Oh, Hood. Do you ever learn? I never go alone."

Robin shifted his weight between his feet, his look assessing the Sheriff's honesty, bluffing, or boasting. "Don't trust your right hand man's right hand man, do you?"

"Of course I do," he snickered, "But why just settle for the secondary support?"

Looking around, he nodded for Will and Djaq to follow him to the door. Will squinted out from the crack between the thick panels, nodding that it looked clear out there; Djaq leaned in close to Robin, whispering in his ear, or so Allan could observe from the direction he faced. He only hoped it was his warning from before—then they may have a chance to escape the ambush that the Sheriff must be alluding to. Robin nodded, casting a glance in Allan's direction, a slight curl to the edge of his lips as he returned to face the Sheriff.

"Alright, Vaisey, this is what we will do. In three days, we will meet again. You will release whoever it is you're harming, you will stop sending me bits of," his face tightened, as if in pain, "this person, and in exchange we will bring you your Pact."

"So quick to accept my offer, Hood. Anxious to part with the document, or anxious to save another suffering soul?" the Sheriff taunted.

"Anxious to be done with you. Get them out of here. Their horses are tied up just outside of town," Robin crossed to the chapel door. "We shall personally see you off."

Much grabbed Allan's arm on one side, John grabbing the Sheriff's beside him, escorting them through the door. Just outside the town, Allan thought he heard the nicker of a horse again, somewhere close, somewhere ahead of them. And the Sheriff chuckled again from beside him, "We're almost there Hood. You could let us finish our way on our own, you know."

"Never," came Hood's reply from over his shoulder.

Shaking his head once, the Sheriff murmured just loud enough for Allan to hear, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

There must be an ambush around their horses, Allan processed. His thoughts swirled around his mind as they continued to walk. Why should it bother him if Robin blamed him for an ambush? It really would never be his fault. And even if it were, he was only fitting his loyalties to the one side that didn't abandon him and threaten to kill him. But he still owed it to them as his friends, and to Marian…

Marian, he thought. That sure looked like her hair, and her eye before that. Could the Sheriff be tricking him? Up till now, he thought that impossible, a seasoned trickster himself. But come to mention it, he really hadn't even seen Guy leave with Marian, or Marian leave at all for that matter. And judging just how badly the Sheriff wanted the Pact, he'd play every trick he knew to get it back. What if… what if…

At that moment, arrows came flying from all around them, and Much and John released their grips, running after Robin and the rest, following Robin's shouts to go for the horses. Allan only could watch as they grabbed the animals, struggling to fit five people on just the two horses, all under a shower of arrows. The Sheriff smirked beside Allan, folding his arms in front of his chest and watching his prey trying to escape. Horses and riders approached from over the hill, and the Sheriff flagged the captain over, ordering him to dismount.

"Climb on, boy," he ordered, and Allan stammered some beginnings of a reply. "Just get on and help your former friends," the Sheriff shoved him the reins.

"But… the ambush?" he asked, hoisting himself into the saddle.

The Sheriff's eyes glinted up at him, "I told you, I have no interest in capturing them today. Go, grab the odd man out and ride on back to their camp. Come back when you're good and ready."

"What do you mean, Sheriff?"

He simply laughed, "I spy with my little eye… a spy in my favor. You know the drill, you've done it before. I just want to keep an eye on their activities. Make them trust you, and keep an eye on my Pact. That's all I care about of course." With that, he slapped the horse's haunch, sending the beast racing off into the fray.

Allan struggled to grab the reins, steering the galloping horse towards Robin, who was still standing, shoving his friends on horseback off towards Sherwood ahead of him. Racing ahead of all the guards, Allan reached a hand out for Robin to climb up quickly. Robin's green eyes narrowed in distrust, but Allan shouted for him, "Come on, hurry up, Robin."

Hoisted behind Allan in the saddle, Robin drew arrows from his quiver, covering their escape from behind. The arrows sang past the edge of Allan's ear, each one seemed to stab his conscience with guilt. Leave it to the Sheriff to turning helping his friends into spying on them. But, he'd done that before.


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's Note- Yes, I am still alive, and, yes, I still do love Robin Hood. After a long sojourn into real life, I suddenly found inspiration to take up the quill for another chapter of Robin Hood. As awkward as it was to return, I hope you enjoy the short chapter I was able to produce. And, given the ending, there will be more :)_

_I take you to Canterbury Cathedral..._

* * *

The solemn chant of Latin prayers floated from somewhere unseen. The gentle rise and fall of the music fascinated Marian, her ever-vigilant eyes darting around the cathedral's stonewalled nave. She craned her neck back, her breath loudly catching in awe. Massive stone columns seemed to reach endlessly into the candlelit heavens, and toweringly vaulted ceilings arched impossibly high above her. Even during the broad daylight, sun barely pierced through the windows, shedding a splatter of colored light across the floor before her. Marian pushed her way through the dense crowd of pilgrims and nobles towards the closest wall. She slowed her walk down the aisle, smiling at the stained glass window. The light-flooded, shining face of the Madonna and Child permanently smiled a blessing in return.

Sensing someone behind, Marian turned slowly around, unable to keep herself from admiring every stoic inch of the cathedral. Taking a deep breath of sweet, incense-laden air, she sighed to the vague presence behind her. "It's so beautiful."

"It's only a church, Marian," a low voice grumbled, and a thick hand encircled her wrist, gently but firm. The muscles of Guy's hand clenched, intending to sweep her behind him through the crowd of gathering nobles. All his attention should be focused on their lies, on their crafted, fictitious plot to dupe the Archbishop. In a matter of moments, the ceremony would begin, and all he would have to do is utter a few more lies to get the one thousand pounds for the Sheriff. But, his thoughts were never so clear with Marian before him; that pale yellow dress clinging to the curves of her form forced a shudder through his masculine frame. Memories of the last time he stood in a church scratched their way to the surface of his mind, images of Locksley, of celebration, and of marriage.

Guy sniffed, not even attempting to hide the bitter scowl from his chiseled face. "Just remain silent and smile, my dear, and you may at last prove your loyalty to the Sheriff and to me." She scowled in return at his coercion, struggling against his grip about her wrist. Guy's sneer broadened. "And unlike the last time we stood together in a church, Marian, there is no where for you to run from me."

For an instant, Guy thought he witnessed a flicker of guilt in her bright green eyes. Marian inhaled deeply, her shoulders drawing back, her face lifting towards his smoldering stare, as if she prepared to reply.

A reply he was sure he would not like to hear.

Guy shook his head, tightened his grip around her arm, and began dragging her back through the heavy wooden doors of the atrium. Ignoring the judgmental glances of other nobles with their daughters, he pulled her along the corridor and into a secluded corner of the nave. He let go her hand, allowing her to steady against the nearest column. Indignation and bewilderment shone from her face despite the deep shadows all around them. "What was the point of all this, Guy?" her clear, controlled voice demanded.

The intensity of the passion that hid subtly in her gaze startled him as it always had before. "I... I don't really know," he mumbled, daring to close the distance between them. His words dried up on his tongue, and he wet his lips. All that remained was a heat in his core and a swirl of desires. With no more thoughts, his feet stopped before her, but his mouth continued to travel.

Until his lips pressed against the smooth flesh of her own.


End file.
